


On the way to tomorrow

by whirlinginthewind



Category: K-pop, Super Junior
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, Mild Sexual Content, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Sneaking Around, Swearing, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirlinginthewind/pseuds/whirlinginthewind
Summary: D&E didn’t know that the journalist joining them on their American tour would be quite like Anna Lane or that she would fit so well into their little family. Anna didn’t know that she would fall into a secret love affair. But there’s bound to be bumps along the way, right?
Relationships: Lee Donghae/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. The Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I’m what you would call a baby elf xD  
> I discovered SJ about a month ago and have since spent countless quarantine hours watching concert videos, variety shows and their overall insanity. Donghae is my bias and I think Eunhyuk is my bias wrecker, but as you all know, it’s practically impossible to pick between these men!  
> I am also American, so with all that being said, please forgive me if I don’t get Korean culture exactly right or if you feel I’m not properly representing their personalities, and please be kind in the comments!  
> I just wanted to write some fun feels XD  
> ALSO FOR THE SAKE OF NOT GIVING ME A MIGRAINE, WE’RE GOING TO PRETEND THEY’RE ALL FLUENT IN ENGLISH OKAY??

It’s 6 a.m. when I ease the lock back into place, careful not to wake my sister as I slip out of our shared apartment. 

Despite the fact that tomorrow will finally be the weekend, the past few days had been nothing if not stressful, so after a night spent staring at the ceiling and cursing my whirling thoughts, I decided to head to work early in order to take a slight detour along the way. 

The sky is just beginning to reach twilight when I step off the subway and begin the short walk to Navy Pier. My jacket and knit hat prove not to be enough for the crisp spring air as I get closer to the water and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself.

I try to pull my long black hair back as I reach my signature place, standing at the edge of the pier just far enough from the shops, but it whips around unruly in the wind so eventually I let it be.  
Work had been just a bit too much lately, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from taking on more and more assignments. My bosses seemed to like me well enough, so Renna liked to consistently remind me that I was only out to prove something to myself. She never seemed to know what it was she felt I was trying to prove though.

Just today I have five interviews lined up, which means I’ll probably spend the weekend attempting to write up the pieces whenever Renna isn’t looking. Honestly the fact that she doesn’t seem to realize she’s causing me to spend twice the amount of time working through her attempt to get me to relax is frustrating, but mostly laughable. 

Still, it’s beginning to feel like my life is one day after another of working my bum off to meet a deadline only to immediately start heading toward the next. 

Without thinking much, or honestly really at all, I go with a sudden impulse, squeezing my eyes and fists shut, throwing my head upward and screaming with all my might toward the lake. I scream until my breath runs out and I feel lightheaded.

It seems to do the trick and I feel much looser. That is, I feel much looser right up until the moment a voice right behind me shouts, “Are you alright!” directly into my ear. 

Instinctively, my legs attempt to put distance between my body and the person who suddenly appeared far too close, apparently not remembering that I was already at the edge of the pier.

In the same instant that one foot meets pure air, a hand latches onto my forearm and yanks with enough force to counteract my body weight’s current trajectory, which launches me rather quickly in the opposite direction and into a thick body mass, which lets out a “hmph!” and stumbles at the impact.

We knock over a small picnic table on the way down and the next thing I know, I’m laying flat on a man’s chest, my legs sprawled over his.

Placing my hands on either side of his head, I push off the ground and scramble to my feet before bursting out in laughter. 

The young asian man is wearing a face mask and a ballcap, but I can still tell he looks absolutely bewildered as he looks up at me from the ground.

“That did not seriously just happen,” I breathe out between laughs. “Are we in a movie or something?”  
I wheeze again, but then I hold out a hand as though I’d really be capable of helping him get up. “Are you okay though?”

He gets up on his own to meet me at eye level, straightening out his hat, before scanning me up and down and then side to side.

“I’m fine,” he says as he continues his search. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain,” I assure him. “Except not because I’m dry thanks to you, although I suppose I wouldn’t have voluntarily taken a nosedive into a freezing lake in a business suit had someone not snuck up behind me and screamed into my ear.”

I grin to let him know I’m just playing, but he still shuffles around awkwardly as his hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

“You sounded like someone was about to murder you or possibly you had already been stabbed.”

“Oh,” I cringe a little, looking at him apologetically. “Yeah. Usually there’s no one around this early to hear me and these waves swallow sound really well.”

His eyes widen over the top of the mask.

“You do this often?”

I shrug.

“I wouldn’t say often so much as this is one of various very much needed stress relief tactics in my arsenal.”

He stares at me silently and curiously so I say, “What? You’ve never screamed out stress before?”

He shakes his head slowly, “ … no.”

“Are you one of those weirdly blessed people who look at the bright side no matter what?”

“I’m so stressed right now that I just seriously considered pretending I broke my leg in that tumble to get out of work today,” he answers instantly.

He then immediately looks more surprised than I am at what he just said. 

I grab his wrist and he allows me to pull him the few steps back to the edge of the pier.  
I breathe in the air for a moment, let go of his wrist and continue to stare straight ahead.

“So scream.”

I feel his eyes on me, so I bump him lightly with my shoulder.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” I call over the wind. “If you want, we can scream at the same time. I’ve still got a bit of stress in me.”

When I see the slight nod of his head in my peripheral vision, I turn slightly toward him and hold up a pinky. 

“You have to scream or you’ll give me trust issues and I already have plenty of those, thank you very much.”

He smirks slightly and intertwines my pinky with his own.

I bring our hands back down to our sides, but don’t loosen my grip on his baby finger as I turn back toward the neverending water. It’s starting to get lighter now.

“One!” I shout. “Two! Three!”

I suck in a massive breath, open my mouth until I can feel the split between my lips and throw my head back.

And we scream.

He starts giggling practically as soon as we finish, reclaims his hand to wipe under his eyes and I’m pretty sure his cheeks would be red if I could see under that mask, but he’s also breathing heavily so I can tell he put his all into it.

“So?” I grin at him.

“That was strangely invigorating.”

I nod.

“Still stressed?”

“I feel lighter maybe? But yeah, still stressed.”

“Well your stresses still exist so of course you are, this isn’t magic,” I jokingly scoff. “But yeah, me too, so onto step two.”

I walk away without waiting to see if he’d follow, because honestly I’m getting ice cream whether he wants some too or not. 

The Original Rainbow Cone shack is just opening up as I shuffle across the pier toward it, rubbing my arms in an attempt to get some warmth through friction. 

“Good morning!” I smile at the man inside, as my screaming mate dutifully reaches my side. “Two large cones please.”

I excitedly turn toward him as we wait.

“There’s five flavors! Chocolate, strawberry, palmer house, pistachio and orange sherbert! You honestly could have never convinced me pistachio was a good flavor until I tried this, but gosh dang it’s amazing!”

He smiles in amusement. 

“Won’t ice cream only make you colder though?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t mess with the ice cream bro.”

Said food is handed to us before he can respond and I lead us to a nearby table.

“Okay rules for phase two are to appreciate every flavor more than the last and to not think about your stress until the last drop is gone,” I explain as we sit across from each other.

He cocks his head to the side.

“You aren’t going to ask me what I’m so stressed about?”

He sounds surprised, but almost in a good way as though he can’t quite believe I’m not prying into his business.

I shrug.

“Did you ask me about mine?”

I point my plastic spoon in his direction in an indication to start eating his ice cream already, but he suddenly apologizes instead.

“I should have asked if you wanted to talk about what was bothering you.”

I laugh him off with a wave of my hand.

“You don’t know me and are therefore not obligated,” I swallow a great bit of strawberry.

“I feel suffocated but also entirely unconnected,” he blurts out without warning. 

He still hasn’t touched his cone.

“I feel like you are entirely missing the point of phase two and also that spilling heartfelt emotions to someone you’ll never see again is bringing us even more dangerously close to being the plot of a movie, but what the hell,” I sigh. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He hesitates, so I wait. I’ve had three more scoops before he opens his mouth again.

“It’s like everyone is always asking, asking, asking, but they’re never asking the right things,” he huffs.

“I can’t say I follow you there.”

He pauses again, visibly reorganizing his thoughts.

“It’s like everyone around me feels like they have the right to know everything about me, but when I really need someone, there’s no one there,” he’s staring at the ground when I look up. “Is that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?”

“We’re all lonely,” I reply after thinking for a moment. “I sometimes think that that is all life is. We’re just fighting not to be alone. My favorite character in a show said that once, but it really struck a chord.” 

His hands swipe at his face and he pulls his hat lower, so I look away and my gaze lands on my phone.

“Shit!” I squeal, already standing. “Not to leave on that super dramatic note, but I’m going to be late!”

I thrust my cone into his one empty hand before he can respond.

“Rainbow ice cream under no circumstances shall be wasted, so you’ll have to finish mine too!” 

I’m nearly to the sidewalk when I look back over my shoulder and see he’s taking his first bite.

\---------

I make it just on time to my first appointment of the day with a businessman who created a program to help prisoners assimilate with society after they’ve served their time and find it so uplifting that I’m in a pretty grand mood as I head to my next location.

The K-pop group Super Junior is in town for a concert tomorrow night and have offered press each a few minutes for an interview today. I actually like their music, so I think this could be a fun one. 

After a rigorous verification process with security, I’m led to a line of reporters each waiting in line for their turn.

Fifteen minutes pass and I check my recorder for the third time before being let into the room where nine of the members sit talking loudly over one another.

As I sit, they politely lower their volume to a dull roar, but when I look up, I immediately lock eyes with one very much not-masked individual. The panic written across his face is clear as day and it doesn’t take a genius to get the hint.

“Nice to meet you all,” I put on my professional face. “My name is Anna Lane and I’m with the Chicago Tribune.”

They all offer some kind of greeting except one who is bringing life to the phrase “looking like a deer in headlights.”

I look down at my prepared questions and then back up at their expectant faces. Eh, what the hell.

“I bet it must be tiring to go through all these interviews,” I smile brightly at them as though this had been the plan all along. “So I’d like to switch things up a bit. Why don’t you each tell me about something you haven’t been asked recently but want to talk about?”

I keep note of their name tags as they go along, embodying excitement over this unexpected topic. Yesung and Khyuhun talk about solo activities they’re working on, Heetchul speaks about his pets, Shindong delves into his love for producing and it goes on and on.

Lee Donghae sits quietly until the end, but when I turn to him expectantly, someone else exclaims, “Oh don’t worry about our Donghae, he can’t speak well.”

The rest laugh, including the man in question, but I clear my throat loudly.

“I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in opening his mouth before someone else can butt in.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about someone who should be here but isn’t,” he sits up straighter with his words and the rest of the members suddenly look a whole lot more serious. “One of our members got married not too long ago and now is no longer sitting here with us. There may be various reasons for this, but it scares me for all of us. We’re in our 30s. We want to get married and we probably all will. I love our fans more deeply than they can imagine so I say this with love. Everyone needs to decide whether they want to get used to the idea of us married or to the idea of Super Junior disbanding.”

The one called Eunhyuk wolf whistles, patting Donghae on the shoulders and I feel a strange surge of pride. 

“Time’s up,” a manager calls.

“This was great,” I smile at the group, ensuring my eyes don’t linger on anyone. “Thank you. It was so nice to meet you all.”

I exit the concert hall feeling an increased determination to put my best into the article and pay a little less attention to the rest of my interviews that day.

\---------

“Don’t come back for at least two hours or I swear to god I won’t let you in,” Renna calls, slamming the door in my face.

“I have a key!” I yell back.

And I only had a few paragraphs left on that article too, I sigh to myself.

It’s early Saturday afternoon and my lovely sister had just confiscated everything but my cell phone, making it pretty much impossible to continue working.

I’m still groaning in frustration when I get on the subway, but feel increasingly better as we get closer to my destination.

Renna doesn’t need to know that I’m going to go stare at a lake for an hour and a half and mentally plan out my week.

But the instant I step onto the pier, I can see there’s a figure already in my spot. The person is lying on their back with their knees pointed up and I feel a strong urge to go shove him or her into the lake. How dare they take my real estate!

Recognition starts to hit me the closer I get and I genuinely consider just casually turning tail, but my ingrained curiosity as a journalist takes over. 

His eyes are closed when I reach him, so I sigh and plop to a seat next to him, wrapping my  
arms around my knees. Then I slide one foot out and lightly kick him on the hip.

“Hey, can you swim?”

His eyes pop open in the same instant he jerks up.

“What?”

He quickly adjusts his hat, which had begun sliding off.

“Nothing,” I say innocently. “Have you been here long?”

“What?” he races to answer. “No.”

He scratches the back of his neck as I look at him expectantly.

“So what are you doing here?”

“You recognized me didn’t you?”

I can see him searching for the truth in my eyes.

“It’s like the masquerade ball theory,” I chuckle, pointing to his mask. Today it’s black. “You can cover up half your face, but you’re still pretty much you.”

He seems to unconsciously pull his hat lower onto his face as though that might help.

“Look, I get it,” I sigh and quickly continue. This kind of situation is a hazard of the job. “You’re worried the lead of the article will be something along the lines of 'SJ member admits to despising being in the public eye oh and also screamed his trauma out like a maniac'.” 

I use my hands as though I’m writing the sentence in the air before us.

“We journalists get a bad rap, you know,” I keep going before he can cut in. “I’ll only write about what happened in the official interview.”

I hold my pinky toward him with a smirk, but he makes no move to bring his hand forward so I clear my throat and lower mine.

“Right so, if I’ve cleared your worries then I’ll be on my way.”

I move to stand, but he suddenly reaches out and grabs my arm, holding me in place.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” he says sincerely.

“You weren’t?”

My curiosity is piqued again as he brings his arm back to his side.

“No, I erm … why …” he hesitates and then plunges forward. “Why didn’t you tell anyone that we had met?”

“Oh.” I hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. “It was pretty obvious you didn’t want me to.” 

“I wanted to say thank you.” A crinkle by his eyes gives away that he’s smiling under the mask. “It’s just that I don’t usually open up to people like that, but I was just in a not so great place and figured I’d never see you again and the guys already have plenty to tease me for, plus dating rumors have started from much smaller things and I’m always the one opening my mouth about things I shouldn’t.”

“So basically … it’s complicated,” I grin.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” he grins back. 

“I hope we can still be friends!”

He lets out a single loud laugh at that.

I stretch a bit and we stare out at the lake for a few minutes before Donghae shuffles beside me and suddenly a heavy and warm weight is wrapped around my shoulders. He’s sitting back down beside me before I can refuse his jacket and honestly, I was cold. 

“Thanks,” I say and he shrugs it off.

“If there was one thing you could be doing right now, what would it be?” he asks instead.

Ah, so he’s that type.

“I think I’d be at the ocean instead of this lake,” I reply without giving it too much thought. “What about you?”

“I’d be on a hot air balloon ride.”

“Tell you what,” I hold up my pinky again. “If we ever meet again in this life, I’ll take you on one.”

He chuckles, but this time offers up his pinky as well.

“You should suggest that they incorporate a hot air balloon prop into your next concert tour.”

“The concert!” he gasps, shooting to his feet so quickly that I fall back on my elbows. “Hyuk-jae is going to kill me!”

And in the next instant, he was quite literally dashing away, one hand holding the hat to his head. 

“You’re just trying to beat my dramatic exit!” I scream after him.

A few people nearby turn to look at me, but I ignore them.

\---------

“I was gone for THREE HOURS,” I proudly exclaim. “How proud of me are you?”

“Don’t be such an overachiever,” Renna sticks her tongue out at me as she stirs a pot on the stove. “And why did you come back wearing a man’s coat?”

I glance down at sleeves that are entirely covering my hands. I had completely forgotten about it.

“A Korean superstar gave it to me,” I smirk at her.

“Yeah yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “Did you buy that just so I wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing you went shopping for fun?”

I sign dramatically.

“You can see right through me.”


	2. St. Louis

I am face to face with Lee Donghae for the fourth time as I stand beside a tour bus with his face plastered on the side, backpack in hand.

“Anna?” he says, faltering mid-step when he notices me. 

“Don’t you ‘Anna’ me,” I huff, squinting at him in frustration. “Do you know what happens when a massively famous k-pop group asks for a specific reporter to join them immediately on a cross-country tour for hours and hours of exclusive content?”

“Um… what?”

“Let me clue you in,” I hiss. “That reporter’s editor then forces her to pack her things in a matter of hours whether she’s interested in dropping her entire life for three months or not!”

SIX HOURS PRIOR

“This doesn’t even make any sense,” I try to speak calmly into the phone. “How can you just expect me to get on a bus this afternoon and leave my entire life behind with no notice. I’m a feature writer, not a travel reporter.”

“And you’ll be writing features, besides you already have a background with them since you wrote that article a few days ago,” Judy, my editor, replies. “This is just a subunit of two of their members and it’s their first U.S. tour. Do you have any idea how many news services have been trying to set something like this up? And they chose you. This is happening.”

She hangs up without another word and I nearly slam my phone down hard enough to crack the screen.

“Hey, Renna!” I yell across the apartment. “I’m going to return my man jacket and I’ll see you in three months!”

“Very funny!” she screeches back.

An angry neighbor bangs on one of our conjoining walls.

“Oi! It’s Sunday! Shut the hell up over there!”

END OF FLASHBACK

“What are you talking about?” 

The singer is staring at me with confusion stretching across his features and I feel just slightly sympathetic for being so harsh.

“You could have at least found out if I wanted to go before telling my boss I’m the only one you’d accept,” I grimace.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond because another man is quite literally hopping over, throwing an arm around his shoulders, and grinning at me excitedly.

“Anna you made it!” He exclaims, holding out a hand. “I know we met for like two seconds the other day, but I’m Hyuk-jae!” 

Donghae grabs his outstretched arm immediately, pulling on it so the two are facing each other.

“Why is she here?”

“You know how SM has been pushing us to bring a reporter along to publicize our tour?”

“You mean the idea I’ve made very clear that I hate?” Donghae squints at him. “Um yeah.”

“Exactly!” Hyuk-jae grins, unfazed. “So after you told me about how chill she is, I figured it’s a win-win. You’re happy, the company’s happy and therefore I’m happy!”

When Donghae just stares at him blankly, he turns his attention back to me.

“Plus you get a rockin vaca!” he winks.

“I can assure you I will be taking this assignment very seriously,” I smile politely at him, before redirecting my attention to the man who seems to still be processing the situation. “So, it looks like I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have immediately jumped to the conclusion that you were a creepy stalker.”

“That I…” Donghae’s eyes widen. “What!”

Hyuk-jae’s mouth drops open in delight.

“You’re going to fit in PERFECTLY!”

\---------

We’ve been on the road for two hours, most of which I spend familiarizing myself with the tour schedule and attempting to convince Renna via text that I’m not pranking her, when Hyuk-jae plops down into a seat across the aisle from mine.

“Ask me some questions,” he grins at me.

“You’re not busy?”

“Nope! And Donghae’s brushing his teeth, so I won’t have anyone to talk to for like a half hour.”

“Um, okay,” I say, not seeing the correlation, but pulling my recorder from the front pocket of my backpack nonetheless. “So, Lee Hyuk-jae. This is your first American tour. What made you want to do this?” 

“Donghae said he wanted to,” he laughs.

“Fair enough,” I chuckle. “Then what would you say you’re most excited about?”

“I can’t wait to hang out with our American fans,” he says sincerely. “We know there are so many people outside of Korea who support us and it’s just going to be so great to return some of that love.”

“I bet your fanbase here absolutely lost their minds when you announced this.”

“Yeah, we’ve sold out every venue. It actually makes us feel bad that we can’t spend more time here, but schedules, you know?”

“Not really, all my schedules for the next three months were just wiped out,” I stick my tongue out at him playfully.

He cringes with a laugh.

“So maybe I didn’t exactly think the situation through from all sides.”

“Hey, at least I like your music,” I say. “It would really suck if I secretly thought you were trash musicians.”

“Uh, yeah that would probably suck,” he laughs. “So which is your favorite song?”

I only have to think for a moment.

“Probably Victory.”

“That one’s really uplifting,” Donghae says, suddenly leaning over the back of Hyuk-jae’s seat. “Hey, they’re having trouble finding one of your bags.”

“What!” the other man yelps, bolting to the back of the bus.

Donghae takes his seat and smiles at me somewhat awkwardly.

“So, I think we started off on the wrong foot.”

“Do you mean when you almost scared me into falling into a lake, when I fantasized about shoving you into said lake or when I accused you of forcibly moving me across the country?”

“When you fantasized about what?” he raises his eyebrows. “Nevermind, I probably don’t want to know. But I meant about today.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that again,” I say. “Everything happened so quickly and I was really surprised. I’ll admit I am a bit of a rash person, but I’m usually a whole lot more professional.”

“No, I should be the one apologizing to you,” he insists. “Hyuk-jae really didn’t clue me in on this insanity. I’ll get you a first class ticket home as soon as we get to St. Louis.”

For just a moment I feel absolutely delighted, but then I imagine having to explain to Judy why I was sent home literally half a day into a three month assignment.

“Would you like me to go?”

He looks incredibly taken aback, and literally jerks his head backward a bit.

“I… That’s not what I’m saying.”

“I know, but I also know you’ve had your fill of reporters for just about a lifetime.”

“Maybe I’d like them better if they all gave me ice cream,” he grins.

“Noted,” I can’t help but meet his smile. “But seriously, if this arrangement makes you uncomfortable then I’ll take you up on that offer, but if not, then well I’m already here and I’d like to do my best with this assignment.”

Donghae nods, contemplating.

“I’d like you to stay,” he finally says. “At some point the company was going to force our hands on this and it’s better you than anyone else.”

“Gee thanks,” I tease him.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracks. “Please stay.”

I smile at him and nod.

“Consider me your shadow for the next three months.”

\---------

Continuous knocking on my hotel door wakes me from a particularly deep slumber the next morning. 

I crack my eyes open just slightly to see the clock showing 8 a.m. before groaning and pulling a pillow over my head, but the knocking doesn’t stop. 

“Hold on a minute,” I finally call in the nicest voice I can manage, dragging myself from the comforting warmth of the queen-sized mattress.

I grab a pair of black jeans and a lavender long sleeve v neck from the top of my backpack and throw my hair into a rough bun before heading toward the door, fully expecting the energetic Hyuk-jae to be waiting on the other side. 

The Tribune is paying for me to stay wherever D&E do, on top of my daily food allowance, which was just about the only way Judy was able to get me on that bus in the first place.

“Good morning,” Donghae greets me instead, back in his mask and cap.

“Oh hi,” I yawn into my palm. “I thought we weren’t heading to the concert hall until noon?”

“Hyuk-jae and I are going to tour the St. Louis Arch first,” he says, visibly excited. “Apparently you can take some kind of trolley system to the very top!” 

“And you need me for this?” 

I’m genuinely surprised that he’d be seeking me out to tag along on anything more than what was necessary.

“I figured since we dragged you along, the least we can do is make it fun,” he shrugs. “Besides, I seem to remember someone saying they were very stressed out, so you could probably use some relaxation.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “You sound way too much like Renna.”

“Renna?”

“My very loving, but very imposing sister.”

“Yo! Is she coming?” A voice yells from down the hall.

Donghae looks at me expectantly and I sigh.

“Y'all are lucky I showered last night.”

\---------

“You failed to mention the trolley carriage was barely large enough to fit two people,” Donghae grumbles.

Despite my best efforts, one of my legs is entangled with Hyuk-jae’s, who in turn is practically in Donghae’s lap in a valiant effort to not be in mine. 

“It’s only about a 5-minute ride to the top,” Hyuk-jae promises. “We’ll be there soon!”

The joke is on him though, because when we reach the top and learn that the arch was made to be so flexible that it actually bends slightly with the wind, we also learn that only one of us suffers from motion sickness. 

“This is going to make a fantastic piece,” I laugh, taking a photo of Hyuk-jae as he leans against a wall near the door to the trolley.

“Can we go back down now?” he groans in reply.

“Just another minute,” Donghae excitedly calls from his place plastered against one of the windows looking out over downtown St. Louis far below. “This is amazing!” 

I find space between other visitors and squeeze up next to him as we gaze downward, shoulder to shoulder. It’s my second time to the top of the St. Louis Arch, but the view is no less spectacular.

I hold up my recorder and wiggle it in front of his face. The first rule in my currently developing list of ways to make this experience as painless as possible for Donghae is to make sure he is always aware of when I’m recording. Drawing lines between reporter Anna and normal, everyday Anna is important. 

“What are you thinking?”

“I feel invincible,” he grins. “And I wish these windows opened.”

“I wish I could float down from here with an umbrella like Mary Poppins!”

He laughs. “One time I was doing something pretty similar for a concert, but the harness got twisted and I got stuck hanging upside down.”

My mouth drops open. “I think I would pay to see that.”

“About 30,000 people did,” he giggles at his own joke.

“I hope you realize I’m searching for a video of this on YouTube as soon as we get back to the hotel,” I say, already anticipating.

“I think you’ll find I’m equally as talented upside down,” he bumps my shoulder.

“Ew!” I squeal, dramatically pushing the stop button on the recorder. “I am NOT putting that in an article!”

“I didn’t mean it like THAT,” he exclaims quickly, suddenly staring far too intently out the window in an obvious effort to avoid meeting my eyes.

I have an urge to pull his mask down and see if red is hiding on his cheeks.

“If we don’t leave now, I’m going to puke on both of you,” Hyuk-jae promises, slamming his hands down on our shoulders.

“If you puke on me during the ride down, you have to buy me a massive stuffed animal,” I threaten, already leading the way back to the trolley.

“And if you puke on me during the ride down, you have to buy her two massive stuffed animals,” Donghae calls from behind us.

I pat Hyuk-jae on the back. “Yeah, you better puke on him.”

“I now see the flaw in my logic,” Donghae chuckles.

\---------

Three anti-nausea pills, two article drafts sent to Judy and one full concert later, and it’s 10 p.m.

I’m leaving the concert hall out a side door and confirming my Uber ride when Hyuk-jae bounds up to me.

“Hey!” he shouts a little, obviously still hyped up from his performance. “Aren’t you heading back to the hotel with us?”

“Nope,” I can’t help but grin at his excited energy. “I’m off the clock and there’s still two hours before the single greatest St. Louis attraction closes.”

“What is it? Can I come?”

I squint at him. “I don’t know if you can keep up.”

“Are YOU the main dancer of an idol group?” he exclaims, before gesturing to himself. “This body is in a state of pique athleticism!”

“Hmm fine,” I pretend to grumble, as my phone dings. “My Uber is here, but you have to buy me a large iced caramel macchiato tomorrow.”

“Deal!” He literally jumps up and down. “I just have to grab my baggage!”

He dashes back down the hall before I can tell him that I’ll definitely be leaving without him if he doesn’t make it back in two minutes.

It’s beginning to sprinkle when I peak my head out the side door, so I quickly scurry over the Uber and climb into the backseat. 

“There’s one more person coming,” I tell the driver. “It’ll just be a moment.”

I’m scrolling through Instagram when the car door opens again and suddenly Hyuk-jae is very much in my personal space. 

“Scoot over,” he insists, already nudging me with his knee.

He has Donghae by the wrist, pulling him into the car as he settles in the middle seat.

“We’re going to Wrigley Field?” the unexpected guest exclaims excitedly.

I look at Hyuk-jae. “That’s not even in St. Louis.”

The guilty party just shrugs.

\---------

Fifteen minutes later we’re all standing in the parking lot, looking up at a 10-story building with various slides and play equipment poking out different windows. A school bus hangs halfway off the roof.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Hyuk-jae says sincerely.

“You’ve been to the third largest Budduest temple in the world and on top of a massive mountain in Switzerland,” I scoff.

“And?”

I’m about to throw another sarcastic retort his way, when I notice Donghae has already entered the building.

An employee is placing a purple wristband on his arm at the ticket counter when we scurry in after him.

“They’re both with me,” he smiles at her. 

The instant the wristband is placed on me, I’m filled with a child-like sense of excitement.

“Welcome to The City Museum boys!” I squeal. “Prepare yourself to enter the physical exemplification of your imagination!”

_(A/N): Google the St. Louis City Museum if you’re curious. It’s basically a huge playscape for adults that you can crawl around in and honestly one of the funnest places I’ve ever been._

When I follow this statement up by casually crawling into a random hole in the wall, I turn back to see them both staring at me in awe. 

“I suggest you find a weird hole you can barely fit into and be on your merry way,” I call before turning my back and crawling into the dark.

It can’t be two minutes later that I hear a high-pitched scream followed by hysterical laughter.

“That slide isn’t even that high!” Donghae’s voice echoes by me.

I find myself on the third floor when I exit the tunnel and immediately climb up into a tree-like structure. I’m crawling on my stomach through a particularly cramped section when a hand reaches up through one of the branches and latches onto my ankle.

I scream and then huff loudly when I hear breathless laughing from below.

“You scared the shit out of me!” I hiss.

“Hold on a second!” the brunette calls back.

I’m not sure why, but I obediently wait exactly where I had frozen. 

It’s not even a minute later when Donghae comes belly crawling up to me from the direction I was headed.

“Hi,” he whispers, and I can just make out his grin in the dim light.

“What are you doing?” I whisper back. 

“I may have shoved Hyuk-jae down a two-story slide that was hiding in the middle of a giant whale statue and then run for my life.”

“Well now you’re blocking my path and it’s not like there’s room to turn around in here,” I tease good-naturedly. 

“Give me your hands,” he says.

“What?” I whisper. 

“Give me your hands,” he says just slightly louder.

When I continue just looking at him, he reaches forward and gently takes my palms. He seems to wait a moment as though offering me a chance to pull away, but when I don’t, he wraps his fingers around my wrists, and then he’s scooting backward and pulling me along with him. 

It’s only a few meters until his body slides through an opening. He lands on his feet, but the momentum pulls me out headfirst and I have to throw my arms around his neck in the same instant he grabs me around the waist to prevent breaking my neck.

“You almost killed me!” I don’t know why I’m still whispering. 

I release him slightly and grip onto the shoulders of his shirt instead as I catch my breath, and he seems to forget where his hands are. 

“You were never in any danger,” he laughs quietly, looking down at me. “You’re so freaking light!” 

I glance up at the hole we had tumbled out of. It’s really only slightly above my head.

“Where the hell are you!” Hyuk-jae’s yell suddenly fills the space.

“Run!” Donghae whisper-screams in my face, before letting go of me and full on sprinting toward a ladder leading upward across the room.

“I don’t know why I have to hide too,” I grumble to myself, but in the time it takes to say it, my hand is already gripping the first wrung. 

On the next level we’re instantly faced with the option of a staircase upward or a cave system going down. Donghae looks at me expectantly.

“I’ve got a secret weapon,” I grin, before taking the stairs two at a time.

He follows immediately and is not disappointed when we finally reach the end of the staircase and find a sign stating “Ten Story Slide.”

“Ta-da!” I proclaim proudly. 

“Ladies first,” he motions with his hands, so I plop down onto the metal. 

“Freeze!” A voice calls from far too close behind us, and then Donghae is squealing, “Wait for me!” 

He clamors on behind me, throwing his legs around mine and then pushing off before I can protest. 

We scramble to our feet the instant we reach the first level and take off running again until we reach the lobby. I place my hands on my knees as I catch my breath.

“You know he’s going to have to take a car back to the hotel with us right?” I eye the brunette. “What exactly is your plan?”

“Bold of you to assume I have a plan,” he grins.

But when Hyuk-jae appears stalking toward us only minutes later, Donghae throws up his hands and backs away giggling.

“Truce! Truce!” he exclaims, but Hyuk-jae grabs him in a headlock anyway, rubbing his knuckles on his head. 

“Just don’t injure him,” I shake my head at their antics. “I don’t want to have to write an article about hospitalization.” 

Donghae not so subtly makes me sit in the middle seat on the drive back to the hotel, which results in Hyuk-jae swatting me in the shoulder when Donghae dodges. 

The flow of apologies is instant, but at least it makes them calm down until we reach the hotel and I gain freedom from the confines of the car.

I grumble and make Hyuk-jae promise he’ll buy me iced caramel macchiatos for the rest of the week, but I can’t help the smile that blooms on my face as soon as I close my hotel room door.


End file.
